


Everybody Make a Scene

by little_murmaider



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Business Man Gets Yelled at By a Bunch of Idiots, Fun Time Dress Up Time, Gen, HALLOWEEEEEEEN, Trick or Treat Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 15:56:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21322798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_murmaider/pseuds/little_murmaider
Summary: The band doesn’t understand why Charles won’t let them go trick or treating.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Everybody Make a Scene

**Author's Note:**

> This was my gift for a trick or treat exchange! The prompt was “The boys in costume, have fun with it.” And I did! Enjoy!

Charles reclined into his seat with a sigh, moving aside the volumes of paperwork cluttering his desk. Clearly he would not be getting to it today.  
  
“So you’re just going to ban trick or treating,” Nathan said. Green paint was smeared inelegantly down his face and neck, his lips and eyes blacked out with dark lipstick. Duct tape secured a pair of double D batteries to either side of his neck. “Wow. Talk about heartless.”  
  
“I’m not banning anything, I just—“  
  
“Maybe _you_ should have dressed up as the Tin Man.”

“Ah. Very clever.”

“From _The Wizard of Oz_.”

“Yes, I’m aware—“

“Because **_you don’t have a heart_**.”

“I understand, Nathan, but what I’m _trying_ to say is now is not the time for trick or treating—“

At Nathan’s side, an inflatable t-rex waggled its pathetically tiny arms.

“Yeh didn’t even cahmpliment our _cahstumes!_”

“**_YEAH_** you haven’t said **_one_** nice thing about our costumes!”

“You—“

“We gaht all dressed up an’ ya haven’t even said _anything_!”

“—haven’t given me an opportunity—“

“You ban trick or treating, you hate our costumes, you’re **_ruining our Halloween!!!_**”

“—to say much of anything.”

One of Nathan’s batteries dislodged from his neck and clunked to the floor. “I’m Frankenstein’s monster. **_Not that you asked_**.”

Charles pushed his fingers beneath his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“_Fine_,” he said after a pause. “If it will get you to listen to me, _fine_. Nathan, your get up is very…_intimidating_. Out of curiosity, where did you find those batteries?”

“Carbon monoxide detector.”

“Ah. Well. One moment, allow me to just…” He grabbed a Post-It note and scribbled **_SPEAK WITH CONTRACTOR; ACCELERATE HIDDEN ALARM SYSTEM TIMELINE_**. ****“There we are. Pickles?”

The creature’s massive head turned to face Charles, its google-eyes rattling in their plastic prisons.

“You…are a dinosaur.”

“Yeeah Imma dinosaaaaaaaaaaur!”

“Quite, ah, daunting. Did you happen to purchase this item while drunk?”

“Yeeah dood I was totally hammered, how’dja know?”

“Lucky guess. Toki. You, hm.”

Toki perked up with pride as Charles’s gaze scanned the full length of his body. Charles took everything in. The scraggly green-dyed hair. The vibrant three-piece suit in three wildly disparate colors. The face like a geometry worksheet—chalky white skin, blue rectangles over the eyes, pink circles dabbing the cheeks, a bright red curve stretched across the mouth. Charles pressed his lips into a thin, tight line.

“You are. A clown.”

Toki beamed. “You likes it! It’s de cool new characters Toki mades up! _De Toker_.” He held up his gloved hands and waggled his fingers. “**_I’s just a kitty-cats chasingks boats_**.”

“What a…terrifying new outlet for your creativity.“

“T’anks!”

Hovering at Toki’s elbow, Skwisgaar was almost unrecognizable. A green cloak draped his slender form, a yellow scarf knotted neatly around his neck. His eyes were shadowed beneath the wide brim of a pointed hat, a bright yellow feather and a garland of daisies contrasting against the green fabric. He had tied a fishing line and lure to the neck of his guitar, which had been stuffed into a brown satchel strapped to his back.

“Skwisgaar, my apologies, but I don’t recognize your costume. Are you some sort of woodland entity, or…?”

“Snufkin,” he muttered sheepishly.

“Beg pardon?”

“I’s, **_huegh_**, I’s Snufkin? From Moomins?”

Charles shook his head. “I’m not familiar.”

“None of us are,” Nathan added.

“I ams!!!” Toki chirped unhelpfully.

“He’s a character in dese books I used to reads as a little tiny kids.” Skwisgaar grimaced as though the explanation caused him physical pain. “Dey mades a bunch of shows, it’s really populars.”

“Dey gots Moomin theme parks in Finlands and Japan!!!”

“Ja. And. **_Eughhhh_** I just. Wants-ted toooooo dress up. As. Snufkins.”

An embarrassed scowl darkened his features. He untied his scarf and coiled it around his rapidly flushing face.

“You know what’s I don’ts has to explains myselfs!!!”

“Skwisgaar, I think it’s very sweet you wanted to revisit something beloved from your childhood.”

“**_Fuck yous_**.”

“Indeed. Murderface, you—“

Murderface expelled a full-body exhale.

“Am _I _**_ever_** going to get a chance to **_schpeak?!_**”

“Well I did just address you by name, so…”

“_I thought we were doing a group coschtume!!!!_”

“Where’dja get _that_ idea?” Pickles asked.

“We talked about it!”

“No we didn’t!”

“Yesch we _did_ Picklesch I _know_ we did becausche I wrote it down in my _ledger!!!_”

“Actually Murderface, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Charles said. “You, ah, can’t keep carving notes into the furniture and walls and call it _your ledger_. But that’s a separate issue, so if you all could please—“

Murderface barreled on: “We _agreed_ to the group coschtume and then you _chucklefucksch_ backed out to make me look like an idiot! Well jokesch on _you_.”

He held his arms aloft in triumph, inviting everyone to drink him in. A sunny yellow crop top clung to the top half of his torso, his doughy belly pudging over the waistband of the matching white-striped athletic pants. As much hair has he could gather had been cinched into a high ponytail on top his head.

“I look _amazing_.”

“Uh-huh,” Nathan said flatly. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Schporty Schpice! From the Schpice Girlsch!”

“You _really_ thought we agreed to dress up like the Spice Girls?”

“You _DID_! Schkwishgaar wasch Posh, Toki wasch Baby, Picklesch wasch Ginger, you were Schcary and I wasch Schporty!”

“You don’t think that maybe,” Nathan formed a _Y_ with his hand and rocked it back and forth between himself and Murderface, “two of those roles should be reversed?”

“No! I’m Schporty Schpice becausche everyone knowsch I’m the schportiest member of Dethklok!”

“_You’re_ the sportiest member.”

“Yeah!”

“I was a state-ranked defensive back in high school!”

“Oh _Nathan_ that’sch scho _embarrasshing.” _Murderface’s chuckle was rich in condescension. “Looksch like Schkwishgaar ischn’t the only one living in the past.”

Skwisgaar yanked his hat over his face to muffle his scream.

“This is stupid, none of this even matters because **_YOU_**.” Nathan whirled on Charles, a paint-tinted finger prodding him in the chest. “**_STILL _**haven’t given us **_ONE_** good reason why we can’t go trick or treating!” 

“**_Because it’s April!_**”

The unexpected boom of Charles’s voice stunned the band into silence, and he realized the sound had literally driven him to his feet. He adjusted his glasses. Stooping to the side, he withdrew a calendar from his desk drawer and slapped it into view.

“You can’t go trick or treating because there _is_ no trick or treating,” he said, tapping at the month with unconcealed impatience. “Halloween was_ six months ago_.”

It took a long time for the boys to process the information. Nathan squinted at the evidence on Charles’s desk. Skwisgaar peeked out from his cap and exchanged a mournful look with Toki. Murderface punched dejectedly at the air. Pickles’s reaction was unknowable, because he was inside a giant inflatable t-rex suit.

At last Nathan spoke.

“So,” he began slowly, “what you’re _saying_ is, today is _Halfway Halloween_.”

“Get out of my office.”


End file.
